![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
Freepers or, Lay Off That Stuff Guys. It'll Kill Yah!
Apr. 23rd, 2008 | 11:17 am
“is there a Tony Snow’s tumor appreciation thread? I hope his tumor makes a full recovery from that bad case of Tony it’s got.”
From a Democratic Underground thread on Tony Snow’s apparent relapse
It’s one thing to blurt out something hateful on the spur of the moment -- to say “good” after hearing news of some personal tragedy striking a public figure you despise.
It’s another thing to sit down and write something celebrating such a tragedy, proofread it, and then hit the send button so that it’s posted on a public forum.
And it’s quite another thing to embrace hatred in this manner, and attack anyone who refuses to join in.
The current freepification of political rhetoric is understandable on an intellectual level in the same way that intoxication is understandable. We’ve all seen at some point in our lives the person who’s had a few too many and who truly believes that he or she is being funny and/or brave, and/or brilliant. Such drunks will often get belligerent with anyone who tries to get them to sit down, shut up, and eat something. And if you dare to touch their bottles or put a full glass out of their reach – well, they sometimes have to be physically restrained from smacking you. You are now officially their enemy.
Not so long ago getting drunk on hatred was mainly the province of people who posted to sites like Free Republic or Little Green Footballs. Unfortunately, quite a few people on the left side of the political equation have apparently watched Freepers post on subjects like the death of Paul Wellstone, Rachel Corrie, and Marla Ruzicka, and, instead of being revolted, have been envious. “Kewel!” they’ve exclaimed. “We should do that!”
And so they ran out and bought themselves case of the same stuff, guzzled it down, and are now staggering around the blogosphere slurring their words, waving their fists, and throwing up on anyone who gets in their way. They are distinguishable from Freepers only because they insert the names of right-wingers or perceived right-wingers in the places where Freepers would insert the names of liberals or perceived liberals. And to make the spectacle truly pathetic, they seem to fondly imagine themselves as courageous defenders of their cause, tough hombres contemptuously brushing aside all those weak namby-pambys who draw the line at gloating about a man quite possibly dying from cancer.
One of the side effects of hate intoxication is a blurring of vision, an inability to perceive nuance. Objecting to their behavior is instantly interpreted as praise for the individuals they’ve attacked. “Wassamatta wid you” they ask, focusing blearily on the person who’s just objected to Hillary Clinton being called a “fucking whore” or has expressed the hope for Tony Snow’s recovery. “You some kinda big fanna Bush? You think you’re some kinda high and mighty saint?” Frequently they’ll launch into imitations, miming attempts at common decency. “Oh, geeze, poooooooor so-and-so! He just got rushed to the hospital! Ima gonna cry!” Then, “Nope!” they’ll declare triumphantly, with all the archness of that man at the end of the bar who’s had four strong martinis and thinks he’s being cute, “the tears just ain’t cummin. I’m a baaad, baaaaaaad person!”
Another symptom is a queasiness that’s at odds with the macho stance these guys frequently adopt. One minute they’re marching about unshaven, an ammo belt draped over their chest, a cigar stub clenched in their gritted teeth, railing about all those squeamish sissies who don’t courageously join in cheering some horrific personal tragedy striking either a Republican or a perceived Republican. The next minute they’re asking to be excused because, faced with the statement that the Republican or perceived Republican is a human being, Sergeant Rock’s tummy has gone all flopsie and he has to go upchuck in the bushes.
Sorry to spoil the fun guys, but you really need to lay off that stuff. It’ll kill ya. Yes, I know, while you’re on it you feel ever so tough, ever so smart and strong and brave, but that’s just an illusion.
To anyone who’s not drinking from that bottle you look as dumb, out of control, and easily manipulated as any Freeper.
From a Democratic Underground thread on Tony Snow’s apparent relapse
It’s one thing to blurt out something hateful on the spur of the moment -- to say “good” after hearing news of some personal tragedy striking a public figure you despise.
It’s another thing to sit down and write something celebrating such a tragedy, proofread it, and then hit the send button so that it’s posted on a public forum.
And it’s quite another thing to embrace hatred in this manner, and attack anyone who refuses to join in.
The current freepification of political rhetoric is understandable on an intellectual level in the same way that intoxication is understandable. We’ve all seen at some point in our lives the person who’s had a few too many and who truly believes that he or she is being funny and/or brave, and/or brilliant. Such drunks will often get belligerent with anyone who tries to get them to sit down, shut up, and eat something. And if you dare to touch their bottles or put a full glass out of their reach – well, they sometimes have to be physically restrained from smacking you. You are now officially their enemy.
Not so long ago getting drunk on hatred was mainly the province of people who posted to sites like Free Republic or Little Green Footballs. Unfortunately, quite a few people on the left side of the political equation have apparently watched Freepers post on subjects like the death of Paul Wellstone, Rachel Corrie, and Marla Ruzicka, and, instead of being revolted, have been envious. “Kewel!” they’ve exclaimed. “We should do that!”
And so they ran out and bought themselves case of the same stuff, guzzled it down, and are now staggering around the blogosphere slurring their words, waving their fists, and throwing up on anyone who gets in their way. They are distinguishable from Freepers only because they insert the names of right-wingers or perceived right-wingers in the places where Freepers would insert the names of liberals or perceived liberals. And to make the spectacle truly pathetic, they seem to fondly imagine themselves as courageous defenders of their cause, tough hombres contemptuously brushing aside all those weak namby-pambys who draw the line at gloating about a man quite possibly dying from cancer.
One of the side effects of hate intoxication is a blurring of vision, an inability to perceive nuance. Objecting to their behavior is instantly interpreted as praise for the individuals they’ve attacked. “Wassamatta wid you” they ask, focusing blearily on the person who’s just objected to Hillary Clinton being called a “fucking whore” or has expressed the hope for Tony Snow’s recovery. “You some kinda big fanna Bush? You think you’re some kinda high and mighty saint?” Frequently they’ll launch into imitations, miming attempts at common decency. “Oh, geeze, poooooooor so-and-so! He just got rushed to the hospital! Ima gonna cry!” Then, “Nope!” they’ll declare triumphantly, with all the archness of that man at the end of the bar who’s had four strong martinis and thinks he’s being cute, “the tears just ain’t cummin. I’m a baaad, baaaaaaad person!”
Another symptom is a queasiness that’s at odds with the macho stance these guys frequently adopt. One minute they’re marching about unshaven, an ammo belt draped over their chest, a cigar stub clenched in their gritted teeth, railing about all those squeamish sissies who don’t courageously join in cheering some horrific personal tragedy striking either a Republican or a perceived Republican. The next minute they’re asking to be excused because, faced with the statement that the Republican or perceived Republican is a human being, Sergeant Rock’s tummy has gone all flopsie and he has to go upchuck in the bushes.
Sorry to spoil the fun guys, but you really need to lay off that stuff. It’ll kill ya. Yes, I know, while you’re on it you feel ever so tough, ever so smart and strong and brave, but that’s just an illusion.
To anyone who’s not drinking from that bottle you look as dumb, out of control, and easily manipulated as any Freeper.